


The Interloper

by Dynapink



Category: The Big Valley
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Family, Family Issues, Gen, Western
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-05-01 00:31:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5185394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dynapink/pseuds/Dynapink





	The Interloper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nchi_wana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nchi_wana/gifts).



Jarrod stopped in the door of the parlour and regarded his younger brother curiously. Nick paced back and forth in front of the fireplace muttering to himself, in one of his dark furies.

“What’s wrong now?” He deliberately kept his voice calm.

Nick stopped pacing, turned round and shook a finger in Jarrod’s face. “What else? _Him,_ that’s what’s wrong. You know he—”

“Who?”

“Our alleged brother, that’s who.”

“Oh. Heath,” he said mildly. “What’s he done this time?”

Nick glowered. “You know that little upstart clocked me on the jaw just now? Again!”

His brother just chuckled. “Did you deserve it?”

Nick opened his mouth to object, then closed it once more. He frowned. “Well. Probably,” he admitted. “But that’s not the point.”

Jarrod didn’t ask him what _was_ the point. He merely gave him a half-amused grin and shook his head. “Well, what else is new? You seen that file I brought home anyplace? Ah, there it is.” He went over and picked up his file from a nearby table. He headed for the door, the stopped and shook the folders in Nick’s direction. “You know, you’ve had it easy all your life, being the only hothead in the family. You’re gonna have to get used to having another one around now.”

Nick gave him a furious stare as he departed. Typical! That’s the way things had been ever since Heath’s arrival. Every member of the family practically bowed and scraped and thanked him for coming here and disrupting their lives. 

That was the worst part, even worse than the presence of the interloper.

Nick Barkley would never admit to something as unmanly as jealousy, even to himself; he just called it perfectly justified resentment. He resented the hell out of this so-called _brother,_ and he resented the fact that he was the only one who seemed to resent him.

Jarrod, after a few doubts, had accepted him. Maybe not like a brother, exactly, but like a kinsman who had come to stay. And never mind he had neither invitation nor prior notice; apparently they were running a damned hotel here. Audra had purported to be even more distrustful and furious than Nick himself, but it didn’t take long before she was looking up at the newcomer with those big, melting blue eyes of hers like he was just another heroic big brother to her. He didn’t know what Eugene thought; Eugene was gone most of the time, and even when he was here he wasn’t much inclined to share any thought that didn’t come out of a textbook. 

And his mother! She, after the first shock of learning of Heath’s existence, had taken him in just as if he were her own long-lost son instead of nothing more than her husband’s bastard. Nick didn’t really know all the details of what had happened to them during that trip to Strawberry — neither would say much beyond the fact that they ran into a little trouble with Heath’s aunt and uncle — but whatever it was, it had created an unmistakable bond between the two of them.

For a few weeks he almost hated his father for having gotten them all into this mess in the first place. The greatest hero in his whole life had turned out to have feet of clay like any mortal man. He’d never thought of Tom Barkley as the kind of man who casually played around. Oh, Nick could forgive him the infidelity, if that had been all there was to it, but it was hard to forgive the results of it. Couldn’t he have at least been more careful?

But Nick liked to think of himself as a realist, so he didn’t let that get him down too long. Even a man as good as his father could have his weak moments. Disappointed or not, he didn’t really hold him accountable.

No. He blamed Heath himself.

Heath, the newcomer, the interloper, the unwanted. The so-called brother that his family expected him to just accept without question. 

Not that Heath seemed to like him much, either. Oh, they tried to be civilised to one another, especially in front of the ladies, but the veneer slipped when they were alone. Usually there were words between them, and often those words led to blows. 

Sometimes Nick felt better after those fights. Other times, like now, they just left him angry. 

Sometimes, like now, those fights left him angry enough to spit nails, but most times he actually felt better in a curious sort of way. He still didn’t like Heath any better than he had before, but at least it was out of his system.

Till the next time.

***

The fights started over the simplest, most inconsequential things.

Outside the stable:

“Now, I know you didn’t grow up on a ranch, but surely you’ve ridden a horse before.” Nick didn’t bother to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

Heath, just about to mount up, took his foot out of the stirrup and turned around. “I think you’ve got good reason to know how well I ride, Nick.”

Nick scowled, remembering that race. Their informal first meeting. It wasn’t a particularly pleasant memory, and it just made him more sarcastic.

“I’ve got good reason to know how well you can show off on a horse,” he said. “But if you try stunts like that without bothering to tighten that cinch, you’re gonna fly off and break your fool neck.”

“I tightened it.”

“Not just now, you didn’t.”

“I tightened it.”

“No. You didn’t.”

“Yes. I did.”

“No, you didn’t.” Nick moved past him to check the cinch, and felt Heath grab his arm. He swung around angrily.

“Don’t touch my horse.” Heath’s voice was controlled, but his eyes blazed.

The two men faced each other, tension radiating off both of them. For a long moment they didn’t say a word. Then Heath, looking for all the world like a dog lowering his head and tail in submission, silently turned back to his horse.

Nick experienced a momentary feeling of triumph. He smirked. “You still didn’t—”

He barely had time to notice Heath spin around before he was on the ground looking up at him, rubbing his jaw.

“What the hell was that all about?” Nick demanded.

“I said keep your hands off my horse.”

Nick got slowly to his feet. “Fine. If you wanna fall off when that loose cinch gives way, be my guest.”

Heath nodded, turned back to his horse.

“Just one more thing, though…” Nick said. He reached out, grabbed Heath by the shoulder and spun him around, caught him with a good left hook.

The fight was on.

***

In the house:

Silas brought in the mail on his little silver tray.

Nick and Heath, emerging from different parts of the house, met in the entryway. The ignored one another.

Nick reached for the mail. “Anything interesting today, Silas?” he asked idly, as he thumbed through it.

“Nothing for you, Mr. Nick, but there’s a letter here for Mr. Heath.”

Nick had just found it. He pulled the envelope free of the others and stared at it. _Heath Barkley,_ it said. He looked at it again. _Heath Barkley, Barkley Ranch, Stockton, California._

An angry flush of red spread across his face and neck.

“How long have you been using the name Barkley?” he demanded of Heath.

“Quite awhile. Any objections?”

“You’re damn right I’ve got objections!” Nick’s voice grew loud enough to carry through the rest of the house. “It’s not _your_ name!”

“I’ve got as much right to use it as you do … brother.”

Victoria, alerted by the raised voices, appeared at the top of the stairs. Jarrod came in from the living room, newspaper still in hand. They watched the two face off.

“Nick,” Victoria said, but he was too angry to listen to her.

“You’re here on my mother’s sufferance, because for some reason she thinks she _owes_ you something, because somehow _she_ feels guilty for what my father did. Well, let me tell you, I don’t. I never wanted you here, and I’ll never accept you as a member of my family. And that includes sharing my father’s name with you.”

“Nick!” Victoria, shocked and angry, hastened downstairs.

She took hold of Nick’s arm and looked up at him reproachfully. Her expression reminded him of those times growing up when he’d done something worse than usual. At those times, her lecture would always begin with the words, “Nick Barkley, I am _ashamed_ of you!”

She didn’t say it this time, but what she said hurt a great deal worse, for it felt like utter betrayal. His own mother, the most wronged party in all of this, took Heath’s part against him.

“It’s not for us — any of us — to approve or disapprove. Whether you like it or not, Nick, he _is_ Heath Barkley. It’s his father’s name and he has every right to it. Heath is just as much Tom Barkley’s son as you are, or Jarrod is, or Eugene is.”

Nick stood there shaking his head, trying to clear the sting of his mother’s words. “No,” he said. “No, Mother, you’re wrong. He’s not Tom Barkley’s son, he’s just Tom Barkley’s bas—”

Heath’s fist connected with his jaw before he could get the word out. He stood there, eyes sparkling in fury. “No man calls me that,” he declared, and turned to stalk towards the front door. 

Nick saw red. Shrugging off Victoria’s grasp, he covered the distance between them in a few quick steps.

“Nick!” Jarrod warned from behind him. “Nick, don’t. Let him go.”

But he already had hold of Heath’s arm, and wasn’t about to back off now. Damn little upstart! Spinning the other man around, he hit him hard enough to knock him off balance. Heath fell backwards into the hall table, knocking off the arrangement of flowers which adorned it. Glass shattered as the vase hit the floor. In a split second he was on his feet again, driving Nick backwards into the newel post.

Victoria barely got out of the way in time. “Nick! Heath!” she exclaimed. “Boys! Stop this at once! Oh, Jarrod, do something.”

Her eldest son didn’t have to be told. He had already dropped the newspaper and was trying to separate his brothers. It took him a minute, because they were locked together in a wrestling match, but he eventually tore them apart. For his efforts he received a clout on the mouth from one of them — no one ever knew which it was.

“That’s _enough,”_ he said firmly. He held them apart at arms’ length, breathing almost as hard as they were.

“If you’re going to behave like animals, at least keep it out in the barnyard where it belongs. Do you realise you nearly hit Mother?”

They didn’t. Nick and Heath both looked at Victoria sheepishly, and dropped their eyes.

“Sorry,” muttered Heath.

“Sorry, Mother.”

Victoria wore her no-nonsense expression, but there was kindness in her voice when she answered them. “It’s all right. There was no harm done … except to my crystal vase,” she added ruefully. “But this sort of thing cannot continue any longer — not even in the barnyard. No matter how much you dislike it, the fact is you boys _are_ brothers, and you’re going to have to make peace with one another eventually. For all our sakes.”

Nick looked down at her with a sorrowful expression. He hated to disappoint her, but in his opinion she was asking for the impossible. 

“Oh, I’ll make peace with him, Mother,” he said, stalking towards the door. He wrenched it open, and stood paused on the threshold. He looked at Heath with loathing. “Just as soon as Hell freezes over.”

Nick slammed the door behind him as he left.

***

Whistling a carefree tune, Nick pushed open the doors of his favourite saloon. It was Friday night, he’d worked hard all week, and a night out in Stockton was exactly what the doctor ordered.

He stopped abruptly. His expression clouded over. There, talking to Nick’s friend Clem, was Heath. Just the man he didn’t want to see right now.

He thought about turning around then and there, finding someplace where the atmosphere was less polluted, but he’d be hanged if he was going to let his evening be spoiled by that interloper.

Besides, he realised as he looked a little more closely at the scene by the bar, this didn’t look like the friendliest discussion he’d ever witnessed. Why not just find out what it was about?

Nick strode over and clapped a hand on each man’s shoulder. “Heath, Clem,” he greeted them heartily. “What’s goin’ on?”

They didn’t answer him immediately. Finally Heath spoke up. “Your … _friend_ here seems to think that the lives of a few miners is worth the price if somebody can save money on those new air pumps.”

Nick made a sound of disgust. “That again?” he asked Clem. He liked the man, he really did, but if he had one big failing, it was the tendency to believe every newspaper editorial he read, no matter how stupid or how often it was disproved with facts. “Now, we’ve been all over that before, Clem. You’re wrong. Jarrod’s proved you wrong, and that’s the end of it. Now lemme buy you a beer. Both of ya,” he added, reluctantly including Heath in the invitation.

Heath nodded, equally reluctantly, but Clem wouldn’t be placated. 

“Surprised at ya, Nick,” he said sourly. “All the trouble you’ve had with him since he showed up outta the blue, I can’t believe you’d be willin’ to drink with him of your own free will. Nothin’ but a no account mine camp bastard.”

Nick had never been more surprised by any emotion in his life than he was by the anger that overtook him. No matter how much he resented Heath, no matter much he wanted him gone, that was a family matter. And Clem wasn’t family.

Heath, incensed as always at the hated word that had tormented him throughout his entire life, was about to knock Clem Roberts off the barstool, but Nick’s punch got there first.

From the floor, Clem stared up at his friend in shock. “What gives?” he demanded.

“I ever hear you call my brother that again, you’ll get a lot worse than that.” He and Heath exchanged a long look of grudging tolerance. “Heath, how about that beer?”

“Yeah, all right.”

***

Later that same night, the two of them strolled into the parlour in happy accord. They looked for all the world as if they’d never exchanged a cross word in their lives, although Heath had a black eye, and Nick’s cheek was beginning to swell.

“Any chance a fellow could still get a bite to eat around here tonight?” Nick asked his mother.

Victoria looked from one of them to the other and back again. “I should think there's plenty of roast left over from dinner.”

“All right, thank you, Mother. Come on, Heath, you haven’t lived till you’ve tasted cold roast beef in the Barkley kitchen.”

They went out together, leaving the rest of the family staring at one another in confusion.

“Well!” Victoria said. She sounded pleased.

Audra blinked. “What was that all about?”

Jarrod smiled as he looked at his mother and sister.

“Well, ladies,” he said, “unless I miss my guess, that was what happens when two men finally exchange enough blows to get the measure of one another.”


End file.
